A Princess in Denim
by Zutara Livs On
Summary: Zuko's coronation approached faster than any of them could have realized. But when he attempts to help Katara choose an outfit, they end up realizing things about themselves and each other that leave them wondering what exactly is about to happen. Z-Week


**_Zutara Week Day One: Denim_**

_A/N: Happy Zutara Week to all. This goes out with especially Miss **Jellyjay** in mind since she's been on my back about updating for ... **:looks at profile:** hoolllly crap, an entire year. Wow. Well. Here ya go! Hope you like :)_

* * *

"You _don't_ need to dress up, Katara." As the impatient waterbender turned back and forth in front of the full-length mirror, holding her hair up so Zuko could wrestle the zipper on her current choice of clothing, he paused. She didn't, dropping her long brunette locks and twirling so that both her hair and dress swirled around her body.

"How does it look?" Katara asked, blatantly ignoring his previous statement and fingering the ends of the fabric that fell right below her knees, spreading it out to make it easier for Zuko to properly assess the full design down her front.

It was a gorgeous dress, Zuko had to admit, and it complemented her body perfectly, the bright red material clinging to her curves until it reached her hips where the dress split to reveal a barely modest portion of her upper leg. But he was too preoccupied to truly see any of it. "It looks fine," he muttered a bit roughly, glancing more in the direction of the bedroom window at the position of the sun slowly ascending into the morning sky than actually at the girl standing in front of him. "But, seriously, you've got to hurry up. You really don't have to dress up – Toph's not."

The waterbender spun away from her reflection, one hand on her hip and a challenging look in her eyes. "Did you seriously just compare me to _Toph_ over _clothing_?" A shadow of a snort escaped her lips as she plucked another dress out of the pile on the bed next to Zuko and then vanished back behind the dressing screen.

Zuko groaned quietly and flopped back onto the bed, rubbing his temples. Katara was the last person he'd have guessed to be troubled about her appearance (next to Toph, that was) – and, honestly, at the stubborn rate she was going, the fifteen-year-old would take longer than even Ty Lee.

The sound of rustling fabric came from the opposite side of the screen, and soon the dress that had just been defining Katara's body came flying over the top of it. Zuko exhaled as it floated down into a second growing pile on the bedroom floor. The "Oh-I-Like-It-But-It's-Just-Not-Right" pile. Zuko was starting to really hate that pile.

He should have known, he told himself. He should have known what he was in for when he walked into her bedroom unannounced that morning; he should have known when he offered to be the one to do it; he should have known all the way back when he invited them all to his coronation. But no.

They'd won the war, weeks ago, even if it still felt like just yesterday when he had walked out onto that balcony overlooking the people of the Fire Nation – _his_ people – and declared it himself. And now here he was, on the morning of his official coronation, trying to round up the gang – _his_ gang – for one last breakfast together, their one last breakfast before everything changed. Before Katara and Sokka and Suki and Hakoda made their way down to the South Pole for a family reunion that was years too late. Before Toph summoned up her courage – a different courage than the ones that made her undefeatable in combat – and faced her parents as an entirely different girl that the one she'd left them as. Before Aang set out to brave the rest of the world in a job that no twelve-year-old deserved. And before he, once a prince, then a traitor, then a hero, and now someone who he wasn't quite sure fit in anywhere anymore, stayed behind to live a life he knew was destiny, but wasn't quite sure he wanted if it meant leaving everything else – leaving all of this – behind.

In a way, Zuko supposed, they _all_ needed this one last breakfast before they set out to face a new world more alone than ever.

And that was why he had called it last night, after everyone had settled in and moved on to exploring the palace. He'd found each of them exactly where he knew they would be – first forcing himself over to the conjoined bedrooms he'd permitted Sokka and Suki. Regardless of the _loud_ knocking and minute-long grace period he'd given them before actually opening the door, the two still sheepishly jumped apart with rising blushes on their faces. It would take a while before he put that vision behind him (at least he had the consolation prize of knowing that however much his eyes had suffered, the Water Tribe boy and his girlfriend were twice as mortified about it). After that wake-up experience, Zuko had traipsed up to the balcony surrounding the palace's highest tower to find Aang, a sort of lost and confused, but still triumphant look on his face as he gazed out into the nation he had just freed from an indescribable evil, even if they didn't quite see it that way. Toph had been in the kitchen with Iroh, seated precariously on the edge of one of the granite countertops, her feet dangling far above the ground as she spun her earthen bracelet into various shapes. And then there was Katara.

He wasn't sure if he'd saved her for last subconsciously, or if it had just been the way things had turned out. Either way, he mentally kicked himself when his heart skipped a couple beats upon that realization. But he shook it aside – she _was_ the person in the group closest to him, after all – and concentrated instead on finding her.

Even though in their months together, he'd come to know her inside and out, he still had trouble narrowing down her precise location within the walls of the vast palace. First there was his mother's garden, where they'd spent several hours after defeating Azula. She'd been so desperate to reach Aang, to make sure he was okay – but Zuko knew better than anyone that the battle had been between the Avatar and his father. He'd taken her and gently steered her throughout the garden, rambling on about everything and nothing until the silent tears trickling down her tan cheek had subsided.

But he wouldn't find her there, not in the garden she had already explored (even if when preoccupied) when it was only an hour after her arrival. She was a curious girl – oh, how he knew that better than anyone – and there really was only one choice where she could be, he soon realized.

And that's how he came to the door of her 'new' bedroom, the one he had given her for her stay because of all the times she'd expressed interest in his past when they'd stayed up late on Appa's back (him because he hated flying, she because she was scared of the life-changing events about to come), and just _talked_ about their pasts, their presents, and their futures. It was his mother's old bedroom. He wasn't sure if she would find the gesture creepy or strange, but the pure elation that had lit up her eyes after the surprise had passed made him thoroughly relieved he'd hung on to her every word all those restless nights. That smile of hers – the real one, the rare one – was worth anything.

In his mother's bedroom; that was where he had found her last night, and that was where he had found himself this morning.

And now, an hour too late, he was extremely regretting it.

"Hey, Zuko?" He removed his hand from his face and sat up, praying that the younger girl had found a suitable outfit for the apparently formal-worthy event of his coronation. Katara's head peeked out from behind the screen and a bare arm reached towards him.

"Yeah?" he replied, not unkindly, eyes following her arm in the direction it pointed.

"Hand me that one red dress over on the bedpost?"

He glanced around the bed, a dismayed look on his face. At least thirty dresses, skirts, and blouses were tossed out in no particular logical pattern or order, just haphazardly across the red and gold comforter except for the odd-shaped space he had cleared when he'd sat down. Honestly, he hadn't the slightest idea how she'd obtained so many unique designs – his mother certainly had not possessed them, nor had his sister, and he hadn't sent for them himself – so he presumed a bit of threatening toward the servants might have been done on her part.

"They're _all_ red," he muttered with a raised eyebrow. And it was true – there must have been every imaginable shade of the color, but it was just one color. She rolled her eyes before combing her fingers through her hair.

"Which is why I said 'on the bedpost,' Sparky," Katara said, gesturing towards the headboard of the bed behind him. He tilted his head backwards until a soft fabric hem tickled his forehead. With an exaggerated sigh, he plucked it down and glanced at it briefly before tossing it over to her.

"You won't like it," he said quietly, just as she was disappearing back behind the dressing screen.

"Oh, really?" came the obviously amused reply, slightly muffled by what he assumed was a half-pulled off dress over her face. "And why not?"

"It'll be too short for you," he replied absently, fingering the mustard yellow tassels rimming the bedspread and traveling back ten years in his memory to a time when everything that had happened to him in the past three months – three _years_, even – would have seemed impossible. "Trust me; it's just not your style."

"And since when do you know what –" Her voice trailed off slightly, and then came a rustling as if she was shaking out the dress and seeing it for the first time. "Oh." Zuko smirked, in spite of himself, settling back amongst the pillows.

"Told you," he mumbled, feeling unusually on the brink of slumber. What had happened to the prince that had woken up every dawn for training? To the traitor that had roused himself daily for the Avatar's advantage, because there was no hope for the world if he didn't?

_Right_ … he thought to himself … _that boy had to grow up too early and become a king of a nation that didn't want him. That boy's coronation … is today_.

He was wide-awake after that. And had thoroughly re-interested himself in seeing the entire gang one last time as a banished prince and not a ruler of a country.

Katara shyly emerged from the secluded corner, tugging at the short ends of the dress, but with that same determined look that he knew so well written on her face. His thoughts sort of got jumbled up and split off after that. "It's an … _interesting_ outfit," she said slowly, now subconsciously smoothing out the _very_ low-rise hem. "But I … I like it. I want to wear it." And she said it stubbornly, as if wearing that particular attire would win her a bet. In a way, he supposed, he _had_ unintentionally presented her with the challenge.

Zuko tried to speak and found his mouth already hanging open. He closed and opened it several times again before finding something adequate to say. A simple, contemplative "Oh," left his lips, making the already self-conscious girl's blush darken to stain her cheeks even more, and she turned slightly so that Zuko had the most innocent view of her body – which still wasn't much.

Needless to say, it was a _short_ dress. Shorter than even the first dress she'd tried on. And this one had a split at the waist, too, even though it actually showed more waist than leg. Zuko had to mentally slap himself as he found himself attempting to calculate whether her waterbending training outfit revealed more of her lower half. Drawing his eyes upward, the sight he was met with was still as compromising. The top split wide at her shoulders, revealing a scandalous portion of the area between her chest and neck before drawing closed in a sharp V-shape. To make up for the attention-grabbing rest of the dress, he supposed, the sleeves were long and sort of hung loosely off her arms, like they were supposed to. It was an interesting design, like Katara had said, not something Zuko would have ever believed could be found in the palace, and it _did_ accent her slender and fit body perfectly – not that he was sure that was a good thing, with what the perfection revealed.

Katara glanced at her reflection in the mirror more confidently, now, but he could still catch her eyes flickering down to the split at the waist. "I think I found my dress," she announced haltingly, and Zuko knew right then and there that in some strange way she was doing this for him – to impress him, to prove him that she wouldn't back down, to do _something_ – and he thought it was entirely stupid.

"No," he said forcefully and heaved himself off of the headboard, rounding the bed to stand behind her. From there, he could see behind the screen and almost laughed. There were probably more discarded red dresses on the ground, the corner table, and the knobs on the screen than throughout the entire rest of the room – _including_ the "Oh-I-Like-It-But-It's-Just-Not-Right" pile. And then, the only outfit actually folded and sitting peacefully; her original Water Tribe clothes, the ones he'd insisted would work perfectly fine for the occasion, and yet she denied this resolutely. _I want red_, she'd said, from the moment he'd walked in the room that morning and found her pulling a spaghetti strap dress over a pair of leggings. He'd taken one look around the room – already a tornado, but not even close to what was to come – and laughed, wondering how long she'd been at it. _Well, you've got red_. And he supposed that was a good thing. No matter how many times he'd tried to convince Katara that her traditional blues could work, they both knew she'd stick out like a sore thumb.

Now, though, seeing the minimal amount of the crimson shade on her body, he suddenly wished the color never existed in the first place.

Standing directly at her back, he carefully placed his palms on the small bit of shoulder covered with fabric and spun her to face herself dead-on in the mirror.

"Is this seriously what you want to wear to a Fire Nation coronation where there are plenty of boys Aang's age who are going to be looking out for the skimpily dressed girls in the first place?" Katara's face scrunched up and for a moment she looked like she would cry – but it turned into a frown.

"I _don't know_. I want to do something different. Something new." She gently removed his hands from her body and turned around to face him. "Zuko. This is the last time I'm going to see you for who knows how long. I don't want to turn around and you come back someone I thought I knew." He heard the accusation in her words and shrunk back ever so slightly. "I don't want you to leave me behind like you did in Ba Sing Se."

Out, somewhere else in the palace, Zuko knew, Sokka and Suki and Aang and Toph were seated at one of those large, fancy tables that made everything seem so small. They were out there waiting for Zuko – who had disappeared over an hour ago to track down Katara – and who knew what they were thinking. But they hadn't sent anyone out to find them, yet, and it was still just the two of them, alone. Alone like they had been once, a time that now seemed so very long ago, alone to sort out all of their loose ends before a change came that might sever their ties forever.

"You have no idea how much that hurt me," the waterbender whispered quietly. She chewed on her lip and Zuko knew that gesture; she was holding back tears. Suddenly, the dress he had to pry his eyes away from didn't look so beautiful anymore – not without the happiness radiating out of the girl who wore it. He reached behind him and groped for her robe, which he had moved aside on the bed. Holding it out to her, she sort of slumped into it, and then they were in a strange sort of hug, a mess of soft fabric pressed between their bodies. Her arms were tensed up near her chest, bunches of robe between her fingers, and his were around her body, stroking her hair, wiping the tears from her eyes before they could drop – he was everywhere, making sure she didn't break down like only he could. "You have no idea," she hiccupped slowly, water swimming in her eyes but not quite falling yet. She broke off the thought and swallowed. "It's going to be so strange calling you 'Fire Lord Zuko.'"

He found himself blinking back tears, too. "You don't have to." It wasn't much of a consolation, but it was all he had. "You can still just call me Zuko. We'll still be friends."

"How do you know that?" she whispered in an even less audible tone. And then the tears were flowing. He wasn't quite sure if it was his or hers, but they were still holding fast to each other and he knew nothing, at that moment, could tear them apart. She caught herself and pulled back slightly, smiling sadly a bit as he thumbed the tear running down her cheek. "I can't believe I just said that."

He shrugged, finding himself rubbing his own good eye and finding it damp. "It doesn't matter."

"I'm going to miss you."

"You're going to visit."

"It won't be the same – not seeing you every day."

"It won't …"

"Zuko … I don't … I don't _want this_."

And then they were hugging without tears, now, in a thoughtful silence that Zuko honestly thought would last for eternity.

* * *

Seconds, minutes, or hours later, Zuko found himself positioned on the edge of the bed, Katara back behind the screen still intent on wearing her immodest outfit, but with several alterations Zuko had insisted on. They both knew there would be questions when they arrived at breakfast, and they'd decided on an answer – one they hoped would satisfy everyone, even if it did draw more questions afterwards and maybe some arguments. But they had each other, and that was enough of a support to lean on, enough of a promise to make it through the day.

And when Katara emerged for the final time from behind the dressing screen, wearing a dark, form-fitting t-shirt over the top of the dress, and gorgeous black denim pants with swirls of bright fire accenting their legs, and asked how it looked, Zuko actually found himself staring at her. Not at the dress, but at the girl. Not at the shirt, but at the smile. And not at the denim, but past everything, delving deep to the memories, the fears, the hopes and dreams they'd shared.

And he found himself answering honestly.

"How does it look?" she'd asked, meaning, he knew, _How do I look?_

_Beautiful, radiant, amazing, gorgeous, unique, perfect_, he wanted to answer. But he glanced up into her eyes and only said, "You look great." Because he knew that she knew – that she knew all the words he meant were behind the simple 'great.'

And she knew what he knew. And he knew that she really did look all of those things. All of those things and more. Because whether in silk or in denim, in jewels or old rags, she still looked like a princess. His princess.

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_A/N: You can go ahead and decide, if you want, if they admitted they loved each other and decided to stay together there becuase I did hint at it. Or if you want, it's what they decided for when they were older. Or it was just random foreshadowing with no purpose whatsoever. I don't mind. Whatever floats your boat._

_Comments make me happy :) **:Hint Hint:**_


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